Verse One:



Blastmaster Kris I don't talk ish

Expand your conciousness and dismiss foolishness

No one is new to this or new to Kris

In hip-hop's atomic structure, I am the nucleus

That is the center of the group weus

theythemyou, every squad every massive every crew

Dental floss is lost when a true rapper jumps off

The cash is incidental but not mental distract you off course

The style that I am kickin is like chicken

It will be bitten, rewritten, then performed for a $25 admission

Reviewed in The Source

You will listen then find somethin missin of course... it's skills

That's what you're fishin for, it's lost

I'm gettin too explicit, the track jingles

I won't do a wack album then remix it for my single

Kickin rhymes til I wrinkle, and my brown eyes twinkle

God called hip-hop for the nine-cinco



Verse Two:



Tasty like a souflee french croisant on Tuesday

Rappers be boo-tay

Goo-fy that's how they crew stay

Bitin whatever you say to boost they ego

We know the steelo, your whole character is foul

Makes me want to shoot a free throw, BLAOWW

From the git go, no, get go, my flow hits low

Wherever all the dope shit go, there's where my shit go

Bee-dee-bee-bo, skank, I think

Self with ya groups everyone else and the bank

Others like to bring the shottie to the party

I bring knowledge of self, you cure the mind, you cure the body

Some rappers like to come to the party, hopin to leave with somebody

check, I come with skills and I leave with your motherfuckin respect

Ahh yeah... so check, UH!



Verse Three:



New types of verbal hip-hop I bring

When you know you can sing BOY you know you can sing

I do not clutter up the airwaves, with stacks of